Thoughts Lay Drowning
by Pilla Jeffrey
Summary: FINALLY UPDATED! RC In the ALW movie, Raoul is on his way to rescue Christine when he falls into a trap leading to a watery grave. Close to death, he relives the incidents that defined his complex relationship with Christine as he finds the will to live
1. The Trap & The Rooftop

TITLE: Thoughts Lay Drowning  
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey  
EMAIL:  
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, Missing Scene/Epilogue, Thoughts, Romance,  
PAIRING: Raoul/Christine  
SPOILERS: Hopefully you've seen the movie…  
RATING: PG-13  
CONTENT WARNINGS: sexual references  
SUMMARY: In the ALW movie, Raoul is on his way to rescue Christine when he falls into a trap that will send him to a watery grave. Close to death, he relives the incidents that defined his relationship with Christine as he finds the strength to save himself.  
STATUS: Work In Progress  
ARCHIVE: anywhere else, ask.  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom in any of its incarnations. Yeah, doesn't that suck?  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is for my friend Pam who inspired me to write for Raoul and Christine after all our friends decided she belonged with the Phantom and my friend Beckie who betaed it. It is an attempt to prove that Raoul loved Christine not only purely romantically, but sexually also. (After all, he was a man.) This added definition to their relationship rounds out Raoul as not only the ideal Prince Charming, but the ideal man that includes the sensuality that the Phantom would give without the mass-murdering.

**Chapter One: The Trap/The Rooftop**

Cold bubbles swam fast out of his breath. How simple it would be, right here and right now. He could let the Phantom win; he could let the grid press him down. He could drown. This could be the end, and Christine…

No. She didn't love him. Raoul's breath tightened in his already clenched chest as he saw her and _him_. As he held her onstage, her face was warm and softened with lust. The smile on her lips was nothing she had ever given him; no, to Raoul Christine was the proper operatic princess. She was as innocent as her sixteen years had given her. Yet in the arms of the Phantom—The Angel of Music, she called him—she awakened.

Raoul was not a boy by any regards. Yes, he was perhaps as pure as Christine appeared to be, but he was also a man. A man who looked at Christine with love, firstly, but also desire. Desire for her touch, her kiss.

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He remembered standing on the roof of the Opera Populaire with her. It was freezing; snow was falling. Certainly it wasn't as cold as their nights together in Sweden, but for a French evening that early in the fall the snow came as a strange sight. She was shivering. At the time, all he wanted to do was to calm her and prove to her that the Opera Ghost did not exist. Yes, there had been strange accidents, but what man could maneuver in an Opera House filled with hundreds of people, unseen by anyone but the new lead soprano?

She wouldn't stop shaking. Even in her reverie, where she stood almost convinced the Phantom was the key to her soul, she would not stop shaking. Slowly, she walked away from him, her breath ragged. "Christine…" his voice wavered, then grew stronger. "Christine…"

He almost thought he heard an echo of his words, but it was most likely the wind. He could not get scared when Christine needed him so badly. He touched her shoulder, which instinctively shifted, but she didn't move. Gently, he moved her towards him, pulling her into his body. She responded quietly, falling into his embrace. From her quivering shoulders, his hands moved along her arms, thinking to hold her closer. Her skin was cold and covered with goosebumps. "Christine, you're freezing." She didn't speak, only half-nodded. Raoul turned her to face him, moving to hold her hands and warm them within his own. Her left hand held onto his desperately, but in her right hand was a rose, tied in black ribbon. How odd. He hadn't seen it before.

As Raoul led Christine away from the edge of the roof, her eyes met his. She had returned to him. The rose—wherever it had been from—dropped from her hand and the now-unoccupied fingers intertwined with his own. He breathed in slowly, unsure of what to say, but at the same time knowing exactly what needed to be said. "No more talk of darkness," he said softly, gazing into her eyes. The chocolate circles flickered, mesmerized by his own.

He promised her everything. If she was with him, he would do everything for her. He reached out, cupping her pale face in his warm hand, feeling the warmth of his fingertips drenching into her icy skin. He could feel her warming away from the terrors of the night before him.

"Say you love me," she whispered. He was surprised by the anxiety in her voice. In his mind, it was too clear that he loved her to think any other way. He wanted to cut her off, make her know how all of him was hers, but she continued. When Christine ever needed to say something she felt was important, she would get an air about her that perhaps only God could stop. "All I want is freedom," she added, walking away from him, pondering this as if it were life or death. She turned to face him, a smile crossing her face, lighting up her rosy cheeks. "And you, always beside me."

He could not explain the sensation that lit up his soul at that very moment. It was warm. Glowing. Vibrant. It was like nothing he had felt before. To her words, he could only respond to pull her back to him, holding her in his embrace. One hand rested on her stomach, the other caught in her curls. His voice became warm in her ear as he said—he could not remember what he said because that was the moment Christine had taken his hand from her hair across her chest and pulled him closer to her, pressing herself into him with such care and love that—

He sharply inhaled, unable to look at Christine. She was so innocent and here he was, thinking the darkest thoughts about her, about how she might feel against him if her cloak and dirtied dress weren't in the way. He shouldn't think of her that way. It would scare her to know that he was not the innocent boy she remembered.

Banishing the thoughts away, he had kissed the side of her forehead, turning her to face him. She smiled at him, but a troubled look suddenly clouded her features. "Say you love me," she whispered again, looking at him desperately.

"You know I do." She glittered at his response, her lips curled in the most delicate smile. Her lips did not turn purple in the cold, but a bright red. He leaned closer to her, and once she didn't move away, secured his hand behind her head. Her breath came a little shallower as he leaned in closer. Her eyes closed. "Love me," she quietly asked, nearly singing, and he did. He spun her to the heavens and then pulled her back to him in order to kiss her once more. His angel had chosen him and he would not let go.


	2. The Proposal

**A/N:** I apologize for any butchered lyrics to the musical. I'm trying to include the songs with my own dialogue in a way that won't sound too cheesy. Although I think I'm failing in that regard.

Also, please remember my attempt in this story is to make Raoul completely compatible with Christine, as to deny those thoughts that she could never be satisfied in a relationship with only Raoul. And, to many people, she is only emotionally and sexually attracted to the Phantom. Ah, the misguided majority. Raoul wants her just as much as the Phantom does. Heck, if your fiancé looked like Christine, wouldn't you want her? (I say this hypothetically as I know I would want Raoul if I was Christine.)

Special thanks to those who reviewed: **Glitter Queen of The Ice show **(the changing of lyrics tends to be my attempts not to rhyme every line), **Shandethe Sanders **(Raoul shares nothing in common with an ameboa!), and **Lindaleriel** (I've been on hiatus from for a while...what are C2 groups? But feel free to add my story, thank you! is honored)

Read, review, and enjoy!

**Chapter Two: The Proposal**

From that night on, Raoul openly courted her. He brought chocolates, jewelry, and flowers. He sent her letters and charms. She consistently told him that she had no need for any of it, that the opera house provided her with all she needed, but she would still smile and thank him with a kiss. He soon realized that he was shopping more than a middle-aged woman just to receive those kisses.

His brother, Philippe, before he had died, had always said that Raoul was the romantic of the family. Raoul wasn't sure if he agreed. Yes, he tended to Christine's every want, but was it cheating if he only did so much to feel the warmth that coursed through his body at the sight of her smile—the smile she only gave him?

Perhaps the only day that made him happier—for a short time—than the night on the roof was the day he passed the Swarovski Crystal shop in downtown Paris on his way to the Opera Populaire. He would have kept going—he was running late, after all—until a dazzling glitter caught his eye. Looking into the window, he saw a ring in the corner of the display, gold and glittering with blue-almost-white crystal. He smiled, remembering Christine telling him one day how enamored she was with her new blue dress for the Opera's newest presentation of "Romeo and Juliet."

"Everything I wear in this opera house is pink. I wear a pink dress when I meet Romeo, I wear a pink dress to my death bed! But now, Raoul, my dress for the marriage scene is blue!"

He had laughed. "Blue, my darling? Is this the true wonder of your success?"

He had stopped laughing when her eyes turned serious. "It's the color of your eyes," she said, touching his face lightly. "You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. They're so pure—the purest light blue I have ever seen. Have you ever looked at them, really?"

"I was always too busy looking into yours." She had shaken her head, seemingly disappointed, but then kissed him.

Raoul had never really looked at his own eyes, but as for the "purest light blue" he had ever seen, it was in that ring. He heart skipped a beat as he entered the shop, not quite knowing where this was taking him.

That night, after Christine had shone just as brilliantly as every other night, he met her in her dressing room. She sat in front of the vanity as he talked to her from is customary position at her side. They were laughing when suddenly he felt the weight of the ring in his jacket pocket. He cleared his throat, acting as if he had forgotten how to speak French. "Christine, I love you."

"I know, Raoul," she smiled. "I know."

He cleared his throat again. "Christine, what I mean is…Christine…" His nerves were only overcome by his body's desire to get the idiocy over with. He took the ringbox from his pocket and opened it. "Christine, I love you."

She did not move. Her eyes did not blink. Raoul breathed heavily, his eyes scanning her for any reaction at all. Her eyes did not lift from the box as she spoke to him finally. "Raoul, what does this mean?"

"Christine…would you be my bride? I have vowed myself to you in words, but here I promise you before the world that with this ring I will guard you through our lifetimes."

She took in a quick breath, and licked her lips. What had he done? "Christine—"

"Yes," she said it quietly, and then, almost shouted, "Yes!" She smiled broadly and kissed him fully, her mouth opening to his proposal.

As they both stood to deepen the kiss, Raoul was suddenly once more overcome with desire. He was to marry this woman, and yet in too many ways, he was too proper a gentleman. Philippe had said that too. His brother had not been ashamed of picking the best-looking ballerina at each opera house when the de Changys had originally expressed interest in supporting the arts, which is probably what killed the young man in the end. But here and now, he tasted her lips. Almost without realizing it, his left hand fell to her hip, slowly moving upward with a want to truly feel his fiancé, every curve of her body like he knew the corners of her soul.

As his fingers reached higher, he felt her kiss become more labored, but passionate. Her kiss was no longer the one he usually daintily received from Christine, but something deeper. His fingers traced the small designs in the thin fabric of her nightgown, spiraling up until—

Before his mindless body had reached her chest, Christine's eyes snapped open and pushed Raoul away. They stared at each other, breathless. Christine looked at him, scared and eyes filled with tears. She looked away, and then breathed deeply before returning his gaze. She swallowed. "Not yet, Raoul." Her tears were streaming now. "I can't."

He could feel his own eyes watering. He had hurt her. He had let his pesky lust get in the way of his promise to protect her. "Christine. Oh God. I—can't believe I—I'm sorry."

Quickly, she shook her head. "It's not your fault Raoul. You…you are perfect. I don't know what's wrong with me." Her voice was clogged, her. He stepped forward to comfort her, but she stepped away, her eyes gazing away from Raoul and into the full-length mirror of the dressing room. She shook her head and bit her lip, as if she was remembering something too close and yet too far away at the same time. "We are to be married, Raoul. I will be yours for life, I promise you. Please, just leave me tonight."

In a matter of moments, his heart had soared and broken. He nodded and then walked to the door. His hand went to the knob, but he stopped. Without facing her, he spoke, begging for forgiveness. "I love you, Christine. I love you."

He didn't wait for her response as he left, closing the door behind him.

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The memory of Erik still lingers…How will this shape Christine and Raoul's relationship? Stay tuned! (And while you're staying tuned, feel free to review!)


	3. The Reconciliation&The Secret Engagement

**A/N:** Wow! I'm so happy to be receiving so many positive reviews! Who knew that the deep within Phantom Phandom lay such a passionate group of RCers?

Thanks to all those who reviewed:**bexxy**, **Glitter Queen of The Ice show**, **Lindaleriel** (I am honored you like it so much!), **caz**, **Rogue Scholar** (I wish to find myself a man who would shop for me like that...willingly), **Shandethe Sanders** (Raoul would make the COOLEST Musketeer!), **Gigi the Dancer** (Raoul has an inner strength that many of the EC people miss during the final scene), **Kchan88 **(I paused my DVD to look at Raoul's eyes as I wrote the last chapter...pretty...), and **Hikaru Hayashi** (AIAoY is _so_ beautiful...I love it on my OLC CD with Sarah Brightman and Steve Barton, and I love it in the movie with Emmy Rossum and Patrick Wilson...although I have yet to decide which version I like better...)

And here comes the next chapter. Read, enjoy, and review!

**Chapter Three: The Reconciliation/The Secret Engagement**

She had forgiven him. She sent him a letter inviting him to accompany her to the masquerade that Messrs. Firmin and Andre were throwing, and he sent her a letter to accept. He wanted to see her in person, but he couldn't quite work up the courage. Something had been bothering Christine—something more than what Raoul had done—and he had no idea how to act so that she wouldn't react so badly again. He sometimes had worked himself to the doors of her dressing room, but then forced himself to go straight to the business that he had with Messrs. Firmin and Andre.

It was not until she came to the doorstep of his Paris residence on a storming afternoon, however, that his fears were assuaged.

"Raoul de Changy." Her voice was stronger than it had been before; being lead soprano at the Opera Populaire had not given her a diva attitude like it had given La Carlotta, but certainly it provided all the confidence she had formerly lacked. "You have made quite a disappointing fiancé." He couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say.

"You left me all alone at the opera house." She gave him a half-smile. "Will you let me in?"

His eyes widened, realizing that she was standing outside in the rain. "Christine, I'm sorry!" He stood out of the doorway as she stepped in. He took her cloak and closed the door behind her. "You must be soaking!"

"I'm fine, Raoul." Her voice was calm. Raoul could not help but look at her. The absence had made her more beautiful, the rain still balancing delicately on her eyelashes. He wanted to reach out for her, to envelop her obviously drenched body with his own, but his reservations held him back.

Sensing his hesitation, Christine stepped toward Raoul, her smile slightly wavering. "I've missed you, Raoul."

His silence broke. "Christine, I've missed you too." Simultaneously, they bridged the distance between them, embracing. They pulled slightly away, kissing fervently. Raoul kissed her nose and then her forehead before pulling away slightly. "Oh, Christine. I love you so much."

"Raoul. Never leave me again." She looked at him earnestly. "I don't think I could bear it."

He grinned broadly. "Never," he promised, and he kissed her again.

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After their reconciliation, all darkness between them vanished. Even the darkness that had normally clouded Christine had nearly lifted, her smile purer and more frequent than it had ever been in the past. Raoul could not get enough of her.

Christine had been amazingly busy as the Opera Populaire's lead soprano. Raoul came to most of the rehearsals, and when he could not, he sent Christine flowers—never roses, as the memory of that weak flower that preventing him from grasping her completely from her nightmares still lingered. However, not only Raoul, but Christine also was pleased when La Carlotta came back, newly rejuvenated from a trip back from Spain. "Vas only a mistakah. Eh bettah now," she claimed, and Christine let her. Christine had enjoyed being the star, certainly, but it was amazing how draining it was on her. She gave her soul every night and never quite got it all back. Needless to say, the return of Carlotta was welcomed.

There had been no more accidents since the night Buquet died. Some had even convinced themselves it had been a suicide all along. Raoul looked on the event with suspicion, but he still could not fully bring himself to believe in the Opera Ghost that Christine vehemently claimed existed.

The masquerade had come sooner than either had expected. Messr. Firmin had highly encouraged costumes—Meg had joked lightly that it was because it gave him an excuse to look as silly as he normally did without insult—and Christine was eager to play along. "Come, Raoul. It could be fun!"

"Fun? Christine…" He sighed. "What did you want to costume yourself as?"

"Well, we should match, of course."

He laughed. "We could dress as matching pairs of boots!"

She looked at him, cross. "Raoul, that's not helping." She cocked her head in thought. Her eyes scanned her dressing room. They had kept Christine as the second soprano, or first mezzo in order to play opposite Carlotta, and thus had let her keep her dressing room. Carlotta had asked for a new one, and Messrs. Firmin and Andre were eager to grovel and transform an old ballet room to accommodate her.

Her eyes fell on the poster in on her wall from her last role as lead soprano. "Raoul, that's it!" She hugged him brightly, and then went into her wardrobe, pulling out a pink dress. Raoul recognized it instantly. He had seen her perform in it daily. "One of your dresses as Juliet?"

"Where did Romeo and Juliet meet?" She hurried on, excitedly, not waiting for his response, "A ball! As we will be attending. You shall be my Romeo. Far better you than Piangi." She smiled at him, spinning herself around with the dress.

"Didn't Romeo and Juliet die at the end of the tale?" Raoul meant it as a teasing comment, but Christine stopped spinning and shook her head seriously.

"You are not to die, Raoul. I won't let you."

"I have no intentions of dying." He shook the idea from his mind. "But, the question, my darling, is how I am to fit in Piangi's Romeo."

Christine laughed, throwing her dress across her chair, and grasped his hands in hers, pulling him to follow her. "We are the Opera Populaire! If anything, we pride ourselves in our costuming!"

He laughed, and looked down at her soft hands leading him. He stiffened when he didn't see the ring he had given her on her finger. When he stopped following her, she turned. "What's wrong, Raoul?"

"Why aren't you wearing the ring I gave you?" He meant for it to sound softly inquisitive, but he could not help but sound offended.

Christine's face dropped suddenly, looking at him pleadingly for some understanding he could not manifest. Sighing, she touched the long gold chain that fell around her neck and pulled it out of the bodice of her dress. On the end of the chain was linked the ring, glittering in the hazy lights. "Raoul, it shall never leave me. But I cannot wear it."

"Why ever not?" His voice was slightly angry now. "Why can't the world know that we're in love?"

Her face once again pleaded with him. "Raoul. Raoul, please. Think of it as…a secret engagement! Do you remember those stories we'd tell each other as Father played the violin? Remember how we would pretend to be the characters in the stories? Well, pretend with me, Raoul. Pretend we are secretly engaged, and the secret must be kept to save our lives!"

"For how long, Little Lotte?" His voice was calmer. "Little Lotte, how long?"

Her eyes flickered. "Soon, Raoul. I promise you, soon all will know." She kissed him, harder than usual, as if she could force the idea onto him with a kiss. The odd thing was that she could. "Now, to have your costume redone!"

Raoul followed her willingly, but he could not fully let the absence of his ring escape from his mind. The Opera Ghost, a small voice snickered in his mind, but he brushed it aside. There was no Opera Ghost.

)(0)(

**Or is there? As always, thanks for reading, and I encourage reviewing!**


	4. The Masquerade

**So, have I mentioned that I'm the worst person ever?**

**I wonder if anyone would still be interested in reading this...I hope so, because I finally have the time to finish it! I'm sorry it fell into the murky waters of "Work in Progress." I had this whole "must get into a location of higher learning" situation going on that prevented me from finishing this last summer. So! I finish it now. And, because you've all been spectacular, my first update in _forever_ will consist of two chapters.**

**Much love.**

**Chapter Four: The Masquerade**

The masked ball had been going well. Christine was glowing in her Juliet dress, and surprisingly enough, the costume designer of the Opera Populaire had been able to properly take in Piangi's outfit. It fit him perfectly; the only problem Raoul had with it was its black color. It was too dark. As he had tied his long hair back from his face with a black ribbon, he had shuddered in the memory of the black-trimmed rose. Who had it been from?

Christine, as always, wore her engagement ring around her neck, the crystal dazzling. Meg could not help but gawk at it when Christine entered the reception hall with Raoul. "My God, Christine! Where did you get that necklace?"

Raoul looked at Christine, surprised. "You didn't tell Meg? Why—"

"I found it hidden in the crack of my wardrobe. Apparently La Carlotta left it there. And why bother returning it to her, as she has demanded a new room?"

Meg laughed as Raoul tried his best to keep the shock off his face. "Oh Christine," Meg giggled. "Isn't she a character, Raoul?"

"A character, indeed." Raoul tightened his hold around Christine's waist. "And if you would excuse us, Meg, Christine and I promised we would greet the Countess de Charbourg on Messrs. Firmin and Andre's behalf."

"Of course, Vicomte." Meg mockingly curtseyed as Raoul led Christine away.

"Meg is so full of laughter, isn't she?" Christine said dismissively. "Really, she—"

He led her even more strongly away from the dance floor. "Why did you lie to Meg, Christine?"

"—always telling jokes and—"

Raoul turned Christine to face him. "Stop. Why are you doing this?"

Christine tried to smile. "Think of it! A secret engagement."

"But why is it secret? What have we to hide?" Raoul looked into her eyes, trying to pull some sense from her. "You promised me," he reminded her, and then leaned in to kiss her like he had a thousand times both in life and in dreams.

She pulled away from him before their lips met. "No, Raoul. Please don't. They'll see!"

"Well then let them see!" He tried not to be frustrated with her. "It's an engagement, not a crime." He paused, troubled. "Christine, what are you afraid of?"

Her eyes melted suddenly, and she desperately pulled him to follow her back to the dance hall, a façade of a smile gracing her face. "Let's not argue. Please pretend."

He frowned slightly, but sighed in resignation to her lie. "I can only hope I'll understand in time, Christine."

She nodded as she pulled him into the dance. Reyer had outdone himself. The entire night was filled with the conductor's own music, penned by his own hand. Mme. Giry had trained the ballerinas to present dances to portions of it during the night as a form of entertainment for the upper class guests.

As the music climaxed, Raoul began to spin Christine, her face alight with childish joy. "Raoul!" she cried in glee, spinning with him faster until she caught his eyes and both began to slow down. Christine's inhibitions were still in place, but in the sheer fun of the night, she seemed willing to let them go for a moment. They kissed sweetly and that—for the time being—was enough of a public commitment from Christine to last him for their current stage of the "secret engagement."

Suddenly the orchestra went flat and gasps of shock filled the hall. Raoul turned to the staircase and saw…a man…dressed as Red Death. And at that moment, he knew everything that Christine had said about the Phantom of the Opera had been true. Here was the man, haughty in air, mask on face, commanding the room. This was the man who held Christine in his control. The one responsible for Buquet. As the Phantom started making outlandish demands, Raoul knew this was his time to strike. He touched Christine lightly on the back to inform her he was leaving briefly, and then pulled the opera's props master—dressed in lavish costume—away from the scene with him. As they were both running out of the room, Raoul turned quickly to the him. "Where is the props closet?" The props master nodded in understanding and led the Vicomte to the props closet, opening the door for him. Searching quickly, Raoul found a sword and ran back to the hall.

He came back just in time to see Christine walking toward the Phantom as the entire hall lay quiet. Christine's face was not visible to him, but he could hear her gasp as the Phantom ripped the chain and ring from her neck. "Your chains are still mine," her Angel seethed. "You belong to me!"

Without losing eye contact with Christine, the Phantom walked back to the middle of the staircase and fell into flame. Raoul followed him in.

**The Opera Ghost exists, and he's back with a vengence! Continue on to see how our brave hero reacts!**


	5. The Lament&The Escape

**I'm skipping around a bit. Each chapter is sort of like a Raoul/Christine vignette as they fit into my interpretation of their relationship. In that, I'm breezing over such events as Mme. Giry's trip to the circus because itreally has no bearing on Raoul and Christine's relationship. Not that it isn't cool to watch, but I don't think my story would be improved by me describing it in detail.**

**That said, the adventure continues...**

**Chapter Five: The Lament/The Escape**

Mme. Giry's explanation of events made little sense. Raoul sensed that the backstory she weaved was not completely elaborated upon; the woman bore the same fondness and awe for the Phantom that Christine bore. Raoul would not be shocked if Mme. Giry was the first subject of the Phantom's passionate song.

Christine had oddly taken the events at the masked ball well. He had found her in the opera house's chapel, tending her father's candle. "Raoul," she pressed thoughtfully, "What did my father mean by all this?"

"What do you mean?" Raoul pushed a curl from her face, but her eyes did not blink, nor did her head either flinch away from or fall into his touch. "Christine…"

"My father promised he'd send me the Angel of Music, Raoul. My father would not lie to me." She seemed so confused. She changed her focus to the portrait of her father, which she addressed fervently. "What did I do, Father?" She turned to Raoul again. "What did I do, Raoul? How did I disappoint him?"

It was evident to Raoul throughout all of his childhood adventures with Christine that the first person in her life was her Father. One time he had childishly tempted her to go with him to the local sweets shop right before dinner—their respective guardians would have been none the wiser—and Christine refused because she could not disappoint her father in such a fashion. Raoul had huffed, frowned, and followed Christine toward the Daae residence.

"Christine, you have done nothing," Raoul reassured earnestly. "You have only been tricked by a madman into thinking you've done wrong."

Christine's eyes did not move from the portrait, but her fingers felt for Raoul's hand, and he gave it to her. They sat that way for several minutes with only their breathing and the flickering candles as company. Finally, Christine broke the silence. "He is my Angel of Music, Raoul. He has given me everything…and I have given him nothing in return…"

"You owe him nothing, Christine. He has abused your love of your Father and manipulated you." Raoul watched the light flicker and dance across her dewy skin. She was so innocent, and this Phantom felt the need to take her from it!

She sighed. "I am tired, Raoul." He stood up and helped her reach her feet. Looking at the candle once more, Christine said, very decisively, "I do not want to stay in my dressing room anymore, Raoul. I am going back to the ballet dormitories. Mme. Giry said that there is an open bed for me since Sorelli left because of the accidents." There was a reason that Christine was not sharing for her wish to move, but Raoul was not going to push her. He could sense her strength was too fragile to question at this moment.

Raoul nodded. "I will not leave your side, Christine."

"Raoul, that really is not needed—"

"No." He said this firmly. "No. I will stand guard outside your door. No harm shall come to you, Little Lotte."

Christine finally agreed and they ventured to the winding stairs that led to the ballet dormitories. Raoul gently kissed Christine goodnight once on the lips and once on the forehead, and then let her get ready for bed behind closed doors.

Raoul found himself a chair and sat back in it, sighing. He would not be sleeping comfortably tonight, but at the same time, he derived great comfort from knowing that Christine would be safe under his guard. He half-wished that he would be able to share the room with her—to visually and physically ascertain her safety—but knew that not only would it be inappropriate, but that Christine would never agree to it.

He leaned back in the chair, preparing for a late night with only his thoughts for company…

…Raoul's eyes flashed open, his pulse hard. The door was open. Where was Christine? Raoul ran into her room, his eyes searching desperately for the fiancé that was not there. He had failed her. He had promised to protect her and she was gone.

**Thank you for reading! I'm so excited about updating again. I'm anticipating five/six more chapters which take Raoul and Christine to a little after the end of the film. ALL of which shall be done in regularish updates!**

**If you're still out there in fanfic land, please review and tell me! I'd love to hear from you once more.**


	6. The Rescue

**I suck at updating.Two more chapters I do submit for your lovely commentary and enjoyment. I'll finish this eventually. I owe it to all of you still reading, as well as to Raoul and Christine.**

**Chapter Six: The Rescue**

Raoul held Christine close, the reigns of the horse slipping from his frozen fingers, his left weakened by the blood pouring from the deep gash on his arm. The ride back to the Opera House was silent; Christine would not talk, and Raoul dared not push her. Anyway, how did one start a conversation about a phantom?

She shivered. He pulled her closer. Was she shivering from the cold or in fear?

The Opera House was beginning to awaken when they arrived. Shadows of workers, messengers, and groomsmen were flickering up and down the streets. Raoul helped Christine off the horse, leading her to the ballet dormitory. Her hand felt small in his. He wished she would talk, but her lips were pursed, quivering as her eyes rested somewhere on the floor.

He led her to her bed. Christine sat down, breathing shallowly. He knelt in front of her, brushing her hair out of her wan face. Searching her face for an answer to her silence, he received nothing. Her eyes were unresponsive, frozen and cold in such pain, such betrayal.

Raoul held her hands in his, warming them in with his breath. They were like that for some time. Without realizing it, Raoul had closed his eyes in tiredness, only to be awoken suddenly by Christine's voice.

"Raoul, you're hurt."

Raoul's eyes opened abruptly. Christine's eyes gazed into his, compassion overcoming her isolating confusion. Relief filled him and he kissed her hands, smiling at her. "It's nothing, Little Lotte. I don't even feel it."

"You're lying. If there's one thing you can't do, dear Vicomte, it is lie convincingly." She stood up, walking toward a dresser and pulling out a clean cloth and pouring out water into a dish. "Take off your shirt," she ordered politely, then turned scarlet once she realized what she had said. "What I meant was—"

Grinning cheekily, Raoul ripped off the sleeve of his shirt. This was the Christine he loved. Charming, innocent, caring. The Phantom could not truly take her away from him. He told himself this repeatedly as she washed the wound and bandaged it, trying to forget the Phantom's power over his fiancé, trying to forget his strength, trying to forget how Christine begged for his life. Why did she care so much about him when he did not care about others? Did she love him?

Raoul couldn't help but fear that Christine's love for him could not outweigh her attraction to the Phantom. Could she love a man she did not know? Could she love this Phantom? Could she love this monster?

And perhaps love was not the only question. Christine was Raoul's in mind and spirit, but her body was hesitant. He desired her as much as any man in love would desire his beautiful and brilliant fiancé. She, however, grew stiff at his touch and avoided intimacy. As she backed away from Raoul, she would be drawn irresistibly toward the Phantom.

Christine finished tied the bandage tightly, securing it properly around Raoul's arm. Her fingers lingered on the bandaged arm, a melancholy expression crossing her features. Finally she spoke. "Raoul, please do not risk yourself for me. I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

Raoul lifted her gaze to his own, his fingers gently raising her chin. "Christine, I love you. I would die for you."

This was evidently the wrong answer. Christine began crying, her voice quivering, unable to make out whatever she so desired to say. Raoul took her into his arms, hushing her sobs away.

"I cannot…I cannot…" Christine began, her tears overwhelming her. "I c-cannot see you die, Raoul. Today it came too close. I was so afraid."

Raoul kissed the side of her head. "But I won, Christine. I won."

She pulled away, inhaling deeply, her eyes refusing to meet Raoul's. "But I cannot see him die either, Raoul. He perhaps is not my father, but he has taken care of me for near ten years. He has nurtured my gift. How can I deny him?"

Raoul sighed, his heart pained by her admission. "The day may come when you must decide whether you can or cannot deny him."

Christine nodded, one more tear glistening down her cheek. "I fear that day may come soon."

He did not have the heart to tell her that the day she spoke of was sooner than even she imagined.

**Continue to read! Continue to review! I do love all of you!**


	7. The Plan

**Chapter Seven: The Plan**

It was that day, as Christine slept—a tormented sleep, but sleep all the same—that Raoul began detailing his plan. He had greatly underestimated how much the Phantom cared about Christine. Raoul looked upon the face of his fiancé. Her visage was perfect in every way. Her skin was porcelain smooth, her lips curved with ironic concern. Raoul leaned in and kissed her forehead. She did not move.

Raoul, of course, could understand why the Phantom was drawn to Christine—he felt her control over himself. The ethereal designs she had on his soul were overwhelming. And it was in this moment, when Raoul realized how much he truly, utterly, and completely loved Christine that he discovered the Phantom's weakness was the same as his own. In the same way that Raoul would give up his own life for Christine, the Phantom would risk everything to hear her voice and have her for himself.

The realization shocked Raoul in its bluntness and obviousness. Christine was the key to everything. She ruled the Phantom's heart, she would be the only one able to bring him down. He once again kissed her for her brilliance that, even in sleep, could inspire him.

Despite his temptation to wake her, Raoul resisted. No, this was a matter to address with Firmin and Andre. In addition, he couldn't wake her. While she was supposed to be in rehearsal right now, Raoul had convinced Reyer that she would do much better tomorrow with a chance to rest. It was near midday now and Christine had been sleeping for several hours.

As he left, he thought he heard her whisper something. He thought she said, "Poor Erik," but he couldn't be sure. After all, Christine didn't know anyone named Erik. _She's dreaming_, he thought, trying to stop his heart from jumping to conclusions. _And she must sleep._

)(0)(

He found Messrs. Firmin and Andre in their office, counting the money they had received in advance ticket sales for _Don Juan Triumphant_. They were promoting the opera as the "World Premiere," which, with the popularity of the Opera Populaire at its current height, brought forth hundreds of interested theatergoers.

"Vicomte!" greeted Andre, shaking his hand. "I suppose you've come to visit Miss Daae?"

Raoul nodded curtly, wishing that the two managers would stay out of his affairs. "I come for another purpose as well, gentlemen."

"Of course, anything for our patron!" Andre said, leading Raoul to a seat. "Do tell us. Are the ballerinas not nimble enough?"

Raoul scoffed. He was not his brother. "No. This concerns the Opera Ghost."

Firmin looked up, the money resting uncounted. His eyes were alight with fear and anger. "What about him?"

"I think I have a plan to trap him." Raoul hoped his words bore a confidence he didn't feel.

Firmin obviously did not buy his words. "Ah, well, yes. I think we've tried already. He's a permanent fixture. Like death or"—Firmin shook a slip of paper—"taxes!"

"Anyway," added Andre, "he's not too bad. Just evil and manipulative."

Raoul looked at him in shock. "And a murderer!"

"And greedy as a fat boy on Christmas morning!" Firmin spat out, back to counting his cash.

"But we live!" Andre countered.

Firmin threw several francs into the air in disgust. "Barely!"

"Gentlemen! Silence, please." Raoul found himself standing. "Please. We must stop him before he does something more drastic than he already has done."

Andre glared. "Oh, and does the patron have a plan?"

These fools were not listening. "Yes, I do."

"Well then tell it!" Firmin and Andre exclaimed in unison.

)(0)(

Mssrs. Andre and Firmin, once told, could not be more pleased. "More profit for us!" exclaimed Firmin.

Mme. Giry was another story. After his announcement of his plan to ensnare the Phantom, she had come up to him pleadingly, turning him to face her. "You cannot do this, Vicomte. He will not let you. I cannot let you."

Her exasperation was only matched by true fear. Her eyes were weak—the harsh ballet mistress was gone and replaced with a frightened little girl. Her fingers quivered, but held firm to his arm, refusing to let him go without coercing him to reconsider. "You do not understand, Vicomte. He is the most powerful man I have ever met. He is clever and cunning. But most importantly, he will do anything for her. And that is why you mustn't try to offend him."

"That, Mme. Giry, is why I must." Raoul sighed. "I also will do anything for her. And that is why he has committed a grave mistake by offending me."

He gently pulled himself from her hold and walked a considerable distance before he heart Mme. Giry's anguished cry coursing down the hall toward him. "You do not understand, Vicomte! You do not understand the risks! You are putting all of our lives on the line, for what? For whose sake? For your own desire! You do not understand!"

Raoul stiffened briefly, then continued on his way to the ballet dormitories to check on Christine. _On the contrary, Mme. Giry_, Raoul thought. _I understand far too well. _

**The next part should include my favorite part of the movie/musical: "Twisted Every Way," which happens to be one of my favorite, and one of the most underated songs in the musical. Until then, I remain yours as long as you read and review!**


	8. The Realization

**Chapter Eight: The Realization**

The top of the stairs seemed far too far from the bottom step once he reached them. His love, truly, deeply, and undeniably overwhelming finally puttered and saddened. He had looked everywhere for her, up in the dormitories, down at the stable, hidden in the back corner of a practice room. And then, most daftly, it occurred to him that she would be in the chapel. Perhaps it was more than just an error of judgment; perhaps it was a subconscious hope. That was where Christine had first heard the Angel's song and indeed, that was the place that drew her soul most strongly, no matter how much Raoul's soul weighed with the knowledge.

And there she was, fallen in tears on the floor, the glistening crystals dancing with the light as they clung helplessly to her eyelashes. Her dress' skirt was sprawled across the floor with a mournful grace, the line of her body closed in toward the photo of her father. She was a dutiful daughter. She always had been. Her loyalty. Another thing he loved about her.

He could see her react almost instantly to his presence. Whether it was his eyes on the curve of her neck or the flicker of the candles as he entered or maybe the ability to feel his body near hers like he could sense hers, she turned, standing, the hem of the skirt spinning as she struggled to stay composed, her hands almost magnetically drawn to her face to cover her tears.

He embraced her as she buried her head into his chest, her breath shallow. "Raoul, I'm frightened. Don't make me do this," she whispered, choking on her own tears of—fear? She said fear, but her voice, her gaze suggested something else. The Phantom instantly appeared in his mind, the cloaked figure adorned in the guise of red death.

He didn't quite know what to say, and neither did Christine. Her emotions, ever lightly skimming the top, never truly concealed, were pouring—tumbling—cascading out of her, words jumbled. "Raoul, it scares me. Don't put me through this ordeal by fire. He'll take me, I know. We'll be parted forever. He won't let me go." She bit her lip, almost ashamed. "What I once used to dream I now dread. If he finds me"—she looked away from his inquisitive eyes, his plan reeling in her mind with all of the ways it could fail drenching her thoughts—"it won't ever end…and he'll always be there…singing songs…in my head…he'll always be there singing songs in my head…"

He caressed the cream silk of her cheek, drawing her into his strength, however feigned. "You said yourself he was nothing but a man. But while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead." _Haunt_ me, he thought. _Haunt me ever night when in your eyes I see him and not me_.

She turned from him—always turning from him! How much more could he take!—and spoke, stronger on each word as her conviction grew. "Twisted every way, what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live? Do I betray the man who once inspired my voice? Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice?"

The tears now lingered not in her eyes but adorned her cheeks in hot splotches which glowed pink on her delicate complexion. Her eyes were hard, resonating with strength amidst the confusion. Raoul watched as her eyelids flickered from her conflicted hands to the world that lay outside the stain glass window. She was angry now. "He kills without a thought, he murders all that's good; I know I can't refuse—and yet, I wish I could. Oh God, if I agree what horrors wait for me in this the Phantom's opera?"

Anger. Fear. Pity. But most of all, uncertainty. Christine, however independent she liked to think herself, was but a child. He was barely a true man—and what vicomte was a true man when his brother had ruled his life for so long?—but he knew one thing. He had to protect her. Love her. Respect her. "Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care." _Please don't_, he prayed, _because I love you more than I could love anyone or anything and would give you the world to show you that_. "But every hope and every prayer rests on you now."

As he enveloped her in his arms and she fell comfortably into where her body perfectly fit into his, he resisted every urge to betray his jealousy and pain. She was his. She said she was. And she wouldn't lie to him.

She couldn't.

)(0)(

The plan had gone as planned. The Phantom had been lured. But while the police were concerned amidst the flames and falling chandeliers that a murderer was on the loose, all Raoul could think about was how Christine looked at the Phantom. She wasn't acting. Her body writhed with sensuality at his slightest touch when she could only offer Raoul a chaste kiss. Her eyes glowed luminously, brilliantly. He manipulated her and she desired him. And Raoul--Raoul was alone. Up in his box. Tears glazing his eyes.

But despite all that he wanted Christine and needed to save her. So he went where no one else would, down to the Phantom's lair. And now he held his last breath as he floated in the trap the Phantom had set.

In looking over his love affair with the opera singer, he felt embued with her gentle but passionate spirit. Whatever physical reaction Christine had toward the Phantom, it could never outweigh the love that Raoul and she shared. It could never match the pureness of their spirits and the beauty and sincerity of their love. The passionate and vibrant memories of their brief romance gave him the power to resist drowning in the Phantom's trap. Christine gave him strength. And he would always cherish her for how she bettered him.

He swam down, trying to find some lever that would stop the grate from crushing and drowning him. Once found, the lever seemed stuck. Raoul panicked, but thought of Christine's beautiful visage and used the last of his strength to move it.

He heard chains move and saw the grate move. He sent a quiet prayer of thanks to the heavens and continued on his way.


End file.
